Trojan Horse
by Cali
Summary: What do you do when your teacher get letters by owl and goes to meet strange men who appears out of nothing at midnight? You follow her!


St. Sorner, located somewhere in London, had about 1000 students.  
Among these pupils, was Claire Johnston, a thirteen year old girl with a curiosity that would not only kill a cat, but also an elephant, a killer whale and not at least a dinosaur.  
Along with most of her classmates, she was usually bored at school.   
Of course, there were some fun classes, like English with Ms. Helen Troy.  
  
The small, willowy woman was one of the easiest recognisable persons in school, with her long, dark purple hair, startlingly blue eyes and hip clothes. She was the coolest teacher in school, and her classroom was what Serina LaBella, a snobby girl in her fifth year, would call 'really groovy'. Which was nothing short of a miracle, as Miss Troy was 32 years old, and Serina thought of a person's 30th birthday as the death of the person's taste in fashion, music, and ..well, everything.  
Miss Troy's classroom was groovy in such ways as the fact that it was always filled with laughter, and weird thingy-majingis.  
The walls were covered in pictures from movies, paper cut-outs, and even a 'wanted'-poster. There were all sorts of funny little things around the room, like small, golden hour-glasses, a weird model of the solar system, and old chess-sets. Once a while, as student would pick up a thing, and the thing would emit a loud noise or a little puff of smoke and dust. Then, everyone would laugh, including Miss Troy.  
Her classes were always fun, and they hardly ever *worked*. Most of the time was spent reading, writing stories or listening to Ms. Troy tell about her school days.  
  
Everybody enjoyed these stories; they were almost as fun and exciting as any book.  
Ms. Troy had gone to a boarding school in Scotland; with both girls and boys. Especially the last part interested her students, as St. Sorner was a Girls School. The young teacher's stories about exciting balls and latenight sneaking out were welcomed breaks from the usual grey, monotone days.  
And it was during one of those stories Claire's own began.  
  
~~*~~

"Ms. Troy, can you please tell us a story? This is boring!" tall, blonde, Anna Hopkins exclaimed an afternoon in August.  
The small teacher looked up, and took of her spectacles. She shot a quick glance at the clock, which showed that the class, and school day, was soon over.  
"I suppose I can," she said while getting up, and walking in front of her desk.  
"Which one should I tell? " She sat down at her desk, and surveyed the class.  
"Yes, that one will work," she said, before clearing her throat.

  
"Now, at my old school, the pupils were divided into different houses. Each house had it's own values and priorities. Now, there was a lot of rivalry between the houses, and then especially my own house and one of the other houses. Oh, how we loathed the members of that house. And they loathed us. With us, I mean me and my friends. Especially one boy, a pale, mean-looking prat, hated us. He was, to say it in an old-fashioned way, our arch-nemesis.  
The pranks we played on each others through the years were many, and one almost got him killed."

The class ooh-ed and ahh-ed.  
"Anyway, in our last year, when we were seventeen, the impossible thing happened."  
"He turned into a squirrel?" Minna, a tomboy, suggested eagerly.  
"He coloured his hair purple to match yours?"  
"Did he marry you?" someone said.  
"Not quite that serious. But I did fall in love with him. And seemingly, him in me."  
"Seemingly, miss?"  
"Seemingly. All the time, my friends told me he was no good, and only used me. I just ignored them. After we dated a time, a friend of mine told me that he was only pretending, and had another girl. I broke off with that slimy-haired juvenile at once. But you see-"  
What she was going to say next, they never found out, as Claire's cellar phone rang at that exact moment.  
The whole class turned, and stared intently at her.  
Claire slowly picked it up, and answered.  
"Hello?"  
No answer, just someone hanging up.  
Typical.  
"I believe that phone is supposed to be off during class hours, Claire," the teacher said quietly as the bell rang. "Please stay behind, so your detention can be arranged."  
The other girls got up and took off, while Claire remained sitting.   
Miss Troy walked down to her.

"Now, I'm going to let you off easy. Just write fifty 'I will turn off my phone' on the blackboard, and you can go."  
Claire rolled her eyes.  
"That is SO old-fashioned."  
"Yes, but at least you get the message," Miss Troy said and flashed her a smile.  
  
Claire was about to start her thirty-seventh 'I will turn off my phone' when the first thing in this extraordinary chain of events happened.  
It was completely silence in the room, except the chalk against the blackboard, and the sound of a page flipped over every now and then, as Miss Troy read her Dickens-book.  
The sound of wings flapping made both her and Claire look up.  
A white owl came sailing through the window, and landed in a heap at the floor.  
Both of them ran over too it, and Claire heard her teacher gasp as she reached it.  
She scooped it up into her arms.  
"Claire," she said absentmindedly, "you are dismissed. Go home."  
"But-"  
"No buts. Just go home." She waved her hand absentmindedly, and Claire picked up her stuff and walked out the door.  
She did, however, not leave. Instead, she hid behind the door, and peaked at her teacher.  
  
Miss Troy had by now placed the unconscious owl on her desk. It didn't move, not even when the usually alive-looking young teacher poked it with a pale finger.   
As she saw it resulted in nothing, Miss Troy leaned down beside her desk, and took up what looked like a wooden stick.  
She pointed it at the owl, and muttered something.  
Claire couldn't believe her own eyes as a golden beam shot out of the stick, and the owl woke up. At the sight of Miss Troy, it hooted softly, and held out its foot, which had a scroll of paper tied to it. Miss Troy picked it up as it was the most natural thing in the world, receiving letters by owls, and read the paper.  
As she stared at the paper, Claire saw various emotions pass her teachers face; surprisement, anger, concern, and then, as she looked away; fear.  
She quickly stood up, grabbed her bag, shoved the owl into it, and walked quickly out of the class room. As she passed the dust bin, she threw the paper in it.   
She moved so fast that Claire had only seconds to hide, but it wouldn't have mattered anyway, as Miss Troy seemed to absorbed in her own thoughts that an elephant dancing in the doorway wouldn't have caught her attention.  
Claire saw her walking swiftly down the hallway, and leapt inside the classroom.  
There, she stuck her hand into the dustbin, and gently fished up the note.  
She read it, but understood nothing. 

Why had Miss Troy been so scared? All it said was;

__

Dear Helen  
It has been long since hearing from you. How are you doing?  
Now, knowing you, you will soon ask me to get to the point.  
Well, all I can write at this moment is that this is to important to write in a letter.  
Just be at King's Cross tonight at midnight, where you will meet old Lycaos and Snuffles. They will tell you more.  
Let nobody, I repeat: NOBODY see you.  
Why?  
Because he is back, Helen.  
He is back.  
Take care, Minnie.  
  
Claire stared hard at the paper. There had to be a hidden message or something, but why would anybody send letters in secret codes to an English teacher?  
Just as she was pondering over this, Claire felt a sudden warmth in her hands. She looked down at the paper in her hand, and swore loudly as it caught on fire in front of her eyes.  
She dropped it on the ground, where the flames licked around it, and turned it into a piece of dust. Claire shook her hand, which was now covered in blisters.  
She looked from the paper, to the pictures of her teacher hanging on the wall, and to the feathers the old owl had left on the floor.  
She had no clue what was going on.  
What she did know, was that Helen Troy wasn't the only person from St. Sorner going to King's Cross that night.

Sneaking out wasn't hard, as Claire's mother was working late, and her father was asleep at the couch. Kings Cross was only one station away with the underground, and it she arrived at the train station about ten minutes to midnight.  
Now, the question was; where to look?  
It was big, and Miss Troy could be about anywhere.  
Claire sighed, and leaned casually against a pillar. She looked around, and had no sooner cast her eyes on the entrance doors, than her teacher entered.  
She walked swiftly, and Claire followed her on a distance. Miss Troy stopped about midway between tracks 9 and 10. Being the great Nancy Drew-fan she was, Claire hid, and watched.  
There weren't many people at the station at this hour; Claire had only seen a few. No doubt that was why that mystic someone who had sent the letter, had asked Miss Troy to meet  
*old Lycaos* at this time of night.  
Claire was not surprised when a middle-aged man with sunglasses and a dog walked up to her teacher; he was about as weird-looking as her, and there were no doubt that they were friends.  
As Claire saw that he carried a white cane, she realised he was blind. He seemed, however, to know exactly where everything was.  
As Miss Troy began talking to the man, Claire strained herself no to miss a single word.  
"Remus? And-"  
"Yes, that would be us."  
"I received a letter from Minerva today. It said HE was back. Is that true?"  
The man nodded sadly.  
"That's what we believe. And that's why we need you at Hogwarts this year."  
This seemed to infuriate Miss Troy.  
"Hogwarts? I can't, Remus. I have a job, a life. Besides, you know I stopped doing these things when Lily-" her voice broke, and she looked down.  
"But you must! At least come with us there. You can always take the train back tomorrow. We need you."  
Miss Troy sighed, and nodded.  
"Ok. But I won't promise you anything."   
She looked around.  
"Ok, the coast is clear," she said, and leaned casually against the barrier between the two tracks. So did the man, Remus, as Miss Troy called him.  
And they disappeared.  
Just like that!  
Claire got up, and held a hand straight forward. She walked towards the barrier, and expected to feel the cold metal. But instead, a feeling of what seemed like water met her, and her hand became invisible.  
She stretched out her other hand, and saw it disappear too.  
Then, she stepped through what she minutes before thought was a solid wall, and onto a small platform.  
  
The train next to the platform, was huge.  
It was scarlet, and the full moon bathed it in soft, silvery lights.   
It was moving slowly towards the end of the platform.  
Claire saw her teacher walking into one of the carriages, and ran after the train.  
No bloody hell she was going to miss this.  
The train was speeding up now, and just as the platform was about to end, Claire jumped aboard. Panting and sweatty, she entered the train.  
It was just as old-fashioned on the inside as the outside: with a long corridor with several compartments along it.  
She moved along the corridor, and peaked through each window as she went along.  
The first three ones were empty, the next one was filled with three woman in weird clothes chatting idly. Claire continued down, passing by compartments as empty as a fly's head.  
Then, as she was closing in on the very end of the carriage, she heard voices.  
  
She glanced into the compartment door, where she saw her teacher and the blind man (who by now looked like he had perfect eyesight, as he was flipping through a book). The black dog was nowhere to be seen, but a man who looked oddly familiar sat next to Miss Troy.  
As Miss Troy threw her head backwards and shot a glance in Claire's direction, Claire ducked down, knowing she must not be seen.  
"He can't be back, Remus, you just know he can't!"  
"Why not?"  
"Because..because he died when Harry-, you know what I mean."  
"I'll tell you everything, but first; change back. Please? It's so hard to talk to you when you look like that."  
"Like what? You think I'm ugly?"  
"No, just..not you. I mean, purple hair and blue eyes?"  
"Yes. But all right, I'll change back." After this, Claire heard her teacher mutter what sounded like Latin, and then, continue in English.   
"But back to the subject; he can't be back. He can't."  
Another male voice started talking. Claire assumed it belonged to the black-haired man.  
"Well, that's what we thought, too. But he's back. It's right there, all in that file."  
Claire heard flapping, and the sound of pages being turned over.  
Silence, and then-  
"Oh. My. God. The minister knows about this?"  
"Yes, and he still denies it, that dabbling, old fool. It's a wonder he got re-elected."  
"How long?" Miss Troy inquired.  
"Excuse me?"  
"How long have you known?"  
"Since the end of term."  
There was a clunk, and Claire could hear the file fall to the floor. This was followed by a long string of such curse words as Claire never would have thought her teacher ever would say, or even think, for that matter.  
"Since the end of term? Since the end of the fucking term? And you didn't alert me until now? God, this is...this is worse than your trial, Sirius!"  
"I know. But Dumbledore said no to involve you unless it was absolutely necessary. We knew you didn't want to do magic anymore. Not since Lily died."  
"Shhh."  
"I'm sorry, I won't talk-"  
"I meant 'shhh' as in 'shhh, I think someone is spying on us'."

From that point on, it went very fast.  
As Claire walked backwards, about to turn and run, she heard three people getting to their feet.  
The compartment door slid open, Claire backed, and toppled over, right onto her back.  
After uttering a few curse words and rubbing her back, Claire looked up.  
And right into the face of her teacher.  
But she didn't look like her teacher anymore.  
Because instead of her long, shiny, purple hair, short braids of curly, brown hair fell down her shoulders. The eyes behind her spectacles were no longer icy blue, but cinnamon brown.  
But it was her.  
No doubt.  
"Miss Troy?" Claire asked weakly.  
"Since you've already come this far, you might as well know my real name."  
"Helena Troy isn't your real name?"  
"No."  
"Then, what is?"  
"Hermione. Hermione Granger."  
  
A/N: Had you all in flap there, didn't I? Thought this was set after GoF? Now, tell me: should I continue it?  
Oh, and brownie point if you get why I gave Herm and Remus the codenames *Helen Troy* and *Lycaos'...


End file.
